


Pretty damn untimely thirst

by Cinnamaldeide



Category: Blood and Chocolate (2007), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Aiden just arrived in Bucharest, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Sexual Situations, Crossover Pairings, Don’t copy to another site, First Meetings, Hannibal Extended Universe, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Nigel, Omega Verse, Revised Version, aesthetic included
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24909913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamaldeide/pseuds/Cinnamaldeide
Summary: Omegas tend to drink a lot of water when their heat approaches, and Nigel is already at his third bottle.For the Fandom Trumps Hate 2020 and Nigel's Appreciation Week
Relationships: Aiden (Blood and Chocolate)/Nigel (Charlie Countryman)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020, MonthlyRareMeat





	Pretty damn untimely thirst

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InsanelyWriteful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanelyWriteful/gifts).



> Many thanks to [Rainy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanelyWriteful/pseuds/InsanelyWriteful) for having bidden me for the Fandom Trumps Hate auction and for having given me the green light to explore one of the prompts I proposed for this darling ship, and to [Another_lost_one](https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_lost_one) for having beta read this work, which will probably be included in _another_ book I’m planning to publish ❀

“Listen,” Darko had told him, tone cold and serious. “Take the day off. Go home, take a shower, shoot some cans, I don’t care. Just don’t stay here. It’s always a struggle not to punch your ugly face, but today you’re making it particularly hard for me.”

Nigel had been sorely tempted to break the empty glass in his hand on the nearest surface and hold its sharp edges against Draco’s throat, which conversely proved his point.

Darko seldom minced his words, Nigel knew better than to take his bitter remarks personally. Some days his notoriously short temper managed to shorten even further, and Darko tended to address him like an irascible omega on his  _ period_, rather than a trusted business associate.

“I got us covered,” Darko had ensured with clear dismissal in his tone, hand gesturing for Nigel to take his leave. “You can find yourself a gorgeous alpha to fuck you into the next few days, or whatever suits your mood.”

Nigel hated alphas with a  _ passion_, in particular during his heats. He detested their supercilious, overbearing attitude, the arrogant self-entitlement associated to their complacent smirks when their nostrils caught traces of fertility hormones in the air. Nigel had started smoking to cover his pre-ovulation scent, and never stopped since.

Still, he couldn’t deny his current mood was leading him to act more or less just like Darko suggested. The beta knew him well.

“Before you go,” Darko had halted him on the threshold, “take some water with you.”

Thus Nigel found himself occupying the most part of two seats in a largely desolate metro wagon, surrounded with as many bottles as his arms had managed to carry from their operating office, silently simmering in frustration, restlessness and with a very specific kind of thirst.

Omegas often sought to hydrate themselves almost compulsively when their heat loomed, an atavic instinct that few had managed to get themselves rid of, and in fact Nigel had slowly been draining his water supplies for the past five minutes.

“That’s the third bottle you drank in one gulp,” someone commented, sounding impressed with the sight. “You feel alright?”

_ American accent_, Nigel thought with a grimace. He wasn’t in the mood for tourists or conversations in foreign languages. “Mind your damn business,” he grumbled, crushing the empty plastic bottle with his hands. He hoped to look intimidating enough to dissuade further friendliness.

That wasn’t the case, apparently. “Look,” the stranger said from the nearby bench where he was sitting, hands raised in ostensible surrender, “I was just worried. I’m no doctor, but you seem kind of distressed.”

Nigel was tempted to convey his hostility with another vitriolic retort, disgruntled and hormonally upset as he felt, aggravated by the fact that his  _ distress _could be distinctly scented in the air, but decided instead to glare threateningly at the well-meaning intruder.

There was something to be said about the clear, vibrant eyes he met, though. Nigel could read genuine concern in them, plainly depicted on the young face, all smooth lines and firm jaw, skin pale rather than  _ cadaverous  _ despite the unflattering neon lights above them. A fine trace of facial hair framed his awkward smile, which Nigel presumed was meant to be a friendly, reassuring expression.

Optimistically, it meant he wasn’t facing a self-declared alpha expert that thought an arrogant smirk and some sweet words would eventually make him weak in the knees, which was in fact soothing, and then Nigel noticed the pencil between his fingers and the sketchbook tucked right beside his seat.

The guy, scentless as a ripe beta, had been drawing before his attention was diverted. “Not the best place to draft landscapes,” Nigel commented with a brief nod at the tools, mouth already dry as sandpaper  _ again_.

He was entirely unrepentant about his strong Romanian inflection.

“Oh,” the young man inhaled in surprise. “I was just practicing,” he said, shrugging casually. “Every place is a good place for that, as long as inspiration strikes.”

“And it did now,” Nigel inferred.

The coy grin spreading on his features, ears lightly flushing under wild curls, was confirmation enough. Nigel cleared his throat, averted his eyes to the dirt floor, and retrieved another sealed bottle.  _ Good for you_, on the tip of his tongue, was washed down with a generous sip of water.

Betas could be cute-looking as well, Nigel conceded, before a sudden cramp positively  _ twisted  _ his insides and a low groan resonated through his chest.

“Am fine,” he grunted when the guy attempted to approach him. Instead of very unkindly intimidating him into keeping his distance, Nigel elected to inquire about his destination.

He didn’t even bother to frame the question in a manner that would disguise his intent to assess the length of time the two of them had yet to share on the ride.

“I’ve heard about places here, in Bucharest,” the American said. “Churches where wolves were almost, like, worshipped. Outdated sculptures and low relief engraved in the walls, very distinctive figures of half-beast creatures in stained glass windows, symbols taken from legends and folklore, you know. I’ve been looking for that sort of place, I need references to werewolves for my next graphic novel, loup-garous in particular,” he continued, eyes bright with passion. He paused, eyeing him almost bashfully. “I’m Aiden Galvin, by the way.”

“You’re a romantic guy, Aiden Galvin,” Nigel retorted, finding a little half smile for him. He drank more water, and tactfully refrained from mentioning that stories about werewolves and loup-garous were fundamentally a load of bullshit not even children believed anymore. “If you’re looking for a Capitoline Wolf statue, don’t look for it at Piața Romană. Think they moved it to Brătianu Boulevard recently,” he said instead.

“That’s really helpful, thank you,” Aiden said, quickly writing down the address on the margin of his pad. Nigel wondered how correct his transcription was, if the young man had studied some Romanian, before venturing into the country in search of old tales and myths. It was a curious kind of fearlessness, Nigel could admire the brave, very foolish spirit.

Then his attention was drawn to the distinct, familiar feel of wetness on the seat of his pants.

“It’s one of the next stops, I can tell you which one,” he added, pointedly avoiding revealing movements of his lower back.

The young man seemed elated at the prospect, but then his enthusiasm faltered. His furtive glances at their surrounding were rather telling in their abrupt timing. “Maybe another day,” he said, hesitant. “Got another location in mind for today.”

Said with the proper tone and assertiveness, those words might have successfully lead him directly into Nigel’s bed any other day, whatever his dynamic was. There would have been something heady about just grabbing his arm and dragging him to a cozy apartment without uttering a sentence along the way, pressing him against the front door and kissing him breathless once they reached the place.

Nigel had never fancied the tough type, nor particularly easy lays for the matter, but Aiden didn’t seem cheap, didn’t seem eager to  _ bend over_, however dainty and casually amiable. Aiden might have been pleasant to wake up to the morning after.

But Nigel saw his tense shoulders, his timid smile, the concern in his very expressive eyes.

Aiden wasn’t attempting to get laid, he was worrying for an omega on the verge of his heat on public transport.

That was very kind, and totally unnecessary. Cramps or not, Nigel was capable of fending for himself, and he would have told Aiden just that, after having drank another generous sip of water, even if Nigel couldn’t deny in good faith that the thought was in fact rather touching.

Watching Aiden follow with alert eyes each passing sign bearing the name of their current stop, perhaps trying to identify the metro station Nigel had previously mentioned, elicited a surge of fondness for the considerate American artist with a keen interest in wolves and folktales.

His exposed lithe neck, the tended ligaments, the unmarked skin right under his ear, were also a striking sight to behold, and Nigel ought to  _ stop staring _ if he hoped his already intense perspiration wouldn’t  _ worsen_.

He sighed, and the sound felt loud in the silence. It rivalled the thunderous pulse of his accelerated heartbeat, which was in fact  _ not normal_ so early on.

“Didn’t catch your name.”

“Nigel,” he answered, before gulping down the remaining water in his bottle, crushing it with perhaps more strength than required afterwards. “Just Nigel.”

“Well, Just Nigel, glad to make your acquaintance,” Aiden genially replied. He leaned forward, bringing their faces closer, and confided, “I officially stopped believing you’re fine. I think we should probably take you to a clinic, if you know one nearby.”

His voice was low and confidential, and he sounded genuine and accommodating, and Nigel had the strongest urge to kiss him, tongue and teeth and plenty of saliva for his effort, and his brain decided for some unfathomable reason to send more rousing signals to his nether regions, crotch and ass cheeks a little mess of slick and seminal liquid at that point, which conversely incensed him further.

“Forget clinics, you don’t want to know how those shitty excuses for hospitals work.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll need an alpha soon–”

“Do I  _ look  _ like I need suggestions from a beta about this?” he snarled. “I know what to do. I know how knotting needs to be done. It’s not the first heat I handle alone.” It just felt kind of lonely to do so by himself.

Aiden looked confused, possibly wounded by his acid retort, and then uttered softly, “Beta?”

There was a distinct moment of complete stillness after that single, simple word.

Nigel gulped audibly, eyes firmly fixed on Aiden, then lunged for his shirt, inadvertently grasping his necklace in the spur of the moment, and tugged him closer.

His skin was flushed, Nigel noticed at an attentive look, and his pupils were remarkably dilated, although his breath seemed regular and his gaze vigilant. The line of his collarbone, however, was damp with sweat, and his scent had assumed a sharper tone.

At the first hint of it, charming and inebriating, Nigel cursed quite crudely in his native language.

“We’re getting off at the next stop, pretty.”

He desperately needed a smoke.

Aiden frowned at his commanding voice, even opened his mouth to protest the appellative perhaps, but caught rapidly up with the same conclusion Nigel had drawn, and remained in muted contemplation for a long, interminable second. Then he began gathering his belongings and some of the crumbled bottles on the floor, to the mild astonishment of his Romanian associate, muttering about having indeed felt warmer than due, venturing that his journey might have upset his inner calendar.

He didn’t waste time dawdling, Nigel could give him that.

Nigel would have given him more than  _ that_, looking at the little, endearing pout on his lips as he readied himself to leave, but was in fact too engaged in reprimanding himself for having flagrantly missed the clear signs of an approaching heat other than his own, possibly even unwittingly induced it in his fellow omega, until it was painfully obvious.

To be truthful, he hadn’t even considered that Aiden, with his prominent Adam’s apple and fierce eyes and outspoken manners, was one of his kind. A hint of stubble on those cheeks had been enough for Nigel to discard  _ omega  _ from the list of viable options, although the broad-shouldered, ominous-looking man supposedly knew better than most that appearance often proved a piss-poor indicator for gender dynamics.

In fact, it had taken some forceful convincing to obtain the sinuous lady inked on his omegan neck, on a place traditionally reserved for a claiming bite, when the tattooist learned that Nigel wasn’t, quote marks,  _ as alpha as he looked_. An easy punch to land, in retrospect.

The train started slowing down with a certain indolence, and a recorded message announced the name of the stop they were gradually approaching.

“I hope you know where to go,” Aiden confessed. “I sure don’t.”

“Don’t worry, a friend lives in the neighbourhood,” Nigel answered, grabbing the single bottle of water left on the bench in one hand and putting the other on Aiden’s shoulder. “He’s at work, we got time before he comes home.”   
At the confused look he elicited, Nigel drew the set of keys that opened door and gate at Darko’s place with a complicit smile. “He won’t mind,” he ensured, knowing full well that Darko very much would. His beta nose wouldn’t notice the lingering scent of omegan heat, Nigel was sure.

“Not very romantic, but,” he added, extending his hand in an inviting gesture when the doors slid open. “Sorry I triggered yours with mine,” he offered.

Aiden took a deep breath, eyes humid with subdued arousal, then grabbed his hand in a secure hold and dragged them out without further delay. “I can be practical about this, I do have good survival instincts,” he stated with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Let’s see if you really know how to satisfy an omega in heat.”

And Nigel forgot all about the wetness on the seat of his pants.

**Author's Note:**

> Aiden had been sketching Nigel on the train, the man sure gives off strong werewolf vibes.  
> I wasn’t kidding about the book. Let me know if you’re interested, or if you spot errors I should fix.  
> [Find me elsewhere.](http://cinnamaldeide.carrd.co) [Post on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Cinnamaldeide/status/1276143451629924360?s=20).


End file.
